It's Alright Like This Too
by For the Fans
Summary: Turkey and Greece have seen so many years pass as enemies, and even as lovers, but never friends. For the two of them, however, that sort of relationship is fine, as long as they can find a peaceful moment sometimes. Oneshot. Rated T for some language.


The man called Sadiq Annan had seen so much of history—more than one might ever hope to learn from history books. He had seen the dawn of civilization in settlements like Ҫatalhӧyük. He had seen the human race grow and advance at such an astonishing pace, and religion change from polytheism to monotheism, and all from his spot on the Anatolian Peninsula. Oh, how many tongues he had spoken over the years, and how many names he had been given.

One moment, he was a mere collection of tribes. Years later, he was the powerful Ottoman Empire reaching out to take hold of Constantinople in 1453 and changing it from the Christian center of the world to Istanbul, his greatest city and home to a primarily Muslim population.

No matter what time, however, there was always fighting. Perhaps people were fighting over his land, dividing it among themselves or conquering him completely, keeping him on a short leash like some sort of pet. Even when he won, it was not always for the best; innocents had been killed in his name, and friends hurt. People who had once lived comfortably with him now looked at him with anger burning in their eyes, but he would not back down. No one save his friend Gupta—sometimes even Ludwig—could tolerate him for long periods of time, and anyone else he called a friend would rather spit in his face more often than not.

Heracles Karpusi was one such individual, but Sadiq doubted whether 'friend' was the right word for their relationship. When the Grecian took over from where his mother left off, the older nation dismissed him as nothing more than an insolent brat and that was just what he proved to be. The child knew nothing about the ways of the world, but the Turk had to admit that perhaps the way he had gone about showing him was hardly right.

It was definitely strange, he thought, that he should be thinking of this now; perhaps age was getting to him, telling him to settle down and make nice with the neighbors. Of course, the boy had long since grown up, and they fought regularly. In recent years, though, they had become a bit more... intimate.

When the two weren't fighting—a rare sight indeed—they were having angry sex. Afterwards, there was no cuddling for them, no sleeping over; this was taboo in their relationship. There were no kind words or friendly remarks to be had between them; it would be impossible to even try, since, no matter what mood either was in, once they so much as made eye contact things would always escalate. It was not uncommon for a punch or two to be thrown, and occasionally their conflicts would even result in physical injury.

Now, Sadiq lay back in a grassy field and wondered if it was worth it; wondered what might have happened if, instead of trying to conquer the small nation back then, he had tried to help. Shaking his head, he knew it was impossible. He was young, arrogant, and rude back then, and had kept the latter two traits even as time passed; it was impossible for him to change.

But maybe one day of peace between them was not too much to ask for?

Relaxing, his mind continued to ruminate on these things while the world turned around him. To his left, wind ran through the trees, rustling leaves in a timeless symphony that he often missed when he was cooped up in the city; every nation had that feeling, he thought. Somewhere in front of him, distant waves could be heard crashing against rock. Above, the sun was obscured every now and then by a drifting cloud, and he was able to understand why Heracles took naps in places like this so often.

The Greek man had been plaguing his thoughts far too much lately, in his opinion. These thoughts made him consider his life—consider his choices—and hated very much to do it. Why was it only Heracles that did this to him? Sadiq knew the answer before even thinking the question, but it wasn't like he was going to admit to it, even mentally. He might be growing old, but he was just as stubborn as he had ever been in that respect.

Busy with his thoughts, the Turk had not noticed as someone approached. Feeling something brush against him, he turned his head to see a cat on its back in the grass. Actually, now that he thought about it, there were suddenly many cats in the grass, and among them a rather agitated looking Greek man.

"Damn it Sadiq, I've told you hundreds," Heracles shouted, blue-green eyes glowing with rage, "No, THOUSANDS of times not to come here! You know very fucking well that this is my land, and you're not welcome here!"

Frowning deeply, Sadiq stared up at him for a moment before responding, "Ya know, can't we just have a nice fucking chat every once 'n a while? Nah, not even that—a nice period of silence? And not the angry kind, or the awkward kind. Just calm for once… Hell, that's never happened." He hadn't moved—hadn't even gotten tense—just addressed the man from where he lay.

"The hell?" Heracles spoke, blinking in surprise, "Yeah, because I'm sure that's exactly what you wanted all those times, even now. Your only goal in life is to fuck with my mind and make damn sure I hate you." When Sadiq didn't respond—he merely closed his eyes as if about to fall asleep—Heracles dared to take a step closer, so he was right beside the Turk. "Hey bastard, did you hear—"

Immediately, the Greek was cut off when a hand suddenly pulled him down, and within seconds he was laying beside Sadiq wondering what exactly could be going through the man's mind.

"Just sit there and shut up. Play with your cats or take a nap—I don't give a rat's ass what you do, just…" he paused for a moment to think of the right words, "Just forget about it for a while. Forget about history, and stop being pissed off at me just for a little while. It gets to be too damn tiring."

About to protest, Heracles glanced over to find the Turk with a rather serious expression, his eyes still closed; he also noted that he was not wearing his trademark white mask. He seemed so much more tired now, like all those years with and before the Greek were finally starting to set in. Sighing, he decided it was pointless, and moved a bit closer to Sadiq so he might rest his head on the man's chest. "Since when did you become such an old man," he mumbled softly.

"About the moment you quit being such a brat," was the reply given, for once said without any malice or mocking tone.

The strange pair lay like that for a while, Turkey and Greece, in the same field. Some words were whispered every now and then, but the silence in between was a comfortable one. While Heracles had arrived sometime before sunset—a couple of hours, perhaps—time refused to stop with them, and soon the stars were out, constellations littering the sky for anyone who knew how to connect the dots.

Before long, Sadiq could feel Heracles' breathing become slow and steady as the man fell asleep, and for once he was glad for change. Even a week ago, something like this would have been impossible. Looking down at the Greek, he brushed the hair from his face and wrapped an arm around him; something he had never done before. In doing this, a small smile came to his face. This sort of thing was comforting, he learned; nice, even.

But it wouldn't last. Fate wouldn't allow it to last.

Come morning, the Turk would rise carefully so as not to wake Heracles, kissing the man softly on the forehead before taking his leave. He would return to his side of the border they shared, and eventually make his way back to one of his homes. The next time they met, they would fight, yell, and hit like always. Even Heracles himself knew this when he allowed the Turk to kiss him, opening his eyes only slightly to watch his enemy and lover walk away, mask in hand.

Maybe in a century or so, they could do something like it again. Surely they would never be friends, but something like this was alright too, no matter how old they got.


End file.
